They passed shops and restaurants until Gramma found something of interest to her.
“Let’s go in here and watch the great magician, Palmo Chango do his act,” Gramma said.
“Who’s Palmo Chango?” Lola asked.
“Perhaps the premier prestidigitator ever,” Gramma replied
Lola and Andy looked at each other.
Andy looked the word up on a phone app.
Gramma ushered her grandchildren into a small theater.
In the dark, the trio was lucky to find three empty seats together in the second row, center stage.
The feature act, Palmo Chango, was introduced by a beautiful girl walking about, smiling and pointing to him. She had a young Nubian goat on a leash which was wearing a tag identifying the animal’s name to be “Tipsy.”
Palmo Chango bent down and petted the goat. He rubbed its long, droopy ears.
Tipsy bleated and showed great affection in return. Her little feet went up into the air and wiggled while she danced about.
Beautiful Girl led Tipsy to and fro, then took him backstage. She reappeared without the animal.
The show began with Chango sawing Beautiful Girl in half. He brought out a chain saw and started it up. A deafening noise bounded throughout the arena.
The audience reacted by covering their ears.
Chango responded by turning it off and placing it away from the table. He pulled a crosscut handsaw out of thin air, or so it seemed.
With great effort, Chango pushed and pulled the saw across the box within which, Beautiful Girl was reclining. He grunted while struggling to finish the task at hand.
Beautiful girl let out a yell as if hurt, then laughed. “Just kidding.”
“Phew,” Chango said. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his brow.
When the saw cut through the box, he separated the two halves and walked between them to show the young lady was indeed, in two pieces.
Beautiful Girl wiggled her toes from one end. She smiled and waved her arms from the separate upper torso. If she was in pain from the surgical event, it wasn’t evident. There were no groans nor suffering. No blood dripped from anywhere.
The audience loved it. They oohed and aahed and wondered aloud how Chango did it.
“It’s undeniable,” he pronounced to the astonished crowd. “She is indeed, sawn in half.”
He waved his hands in the air, prompting an expected audience response.
They all clapped and gushed with great admiration.
Miraculously, Chango proved himself able to reconnect Beautiful Girl’s body. He pushed the two parts together, locked them in, and gave a short incantation while waving his wand.
Chango opened the two boxes for the audience to see the successful result of his great accomplishment, the likes of which, any surgeon would’ve killed to learn to do.
Beautiful Girl got up and walked about, smiling and pointing to the magician, encouraging the audience to show their admiration for his expertise in such operational magic.
For effect, she touched and looked at her midriff a couple of times.
The audience laughed.
Chango continued his act with tooting horns magically appearing out of nowhere, then disappearing. Within the confines of his top hat, a dove was changed into the obligatory rabbit. The bunny got a round of applause.
Card tricks and other sleight-of-hand magic were performed to the audience’s delight.
Beautiful Girl came out from behind the curtain, body parts still rejoined, and lay down on the table.
Chango picked up the saw again.
Beautiful Girl said, “No more.” She pouted beautifully.
Chango put the saw down and covered her with a magic cloth. He waved his wand about, and the girl and the cloth levitated, seemingly without assist. The cloth rested back on the table, was removed and Beautiful Girl proudly got up from beneath it.
She received a thunderous applause.
Chango brought the table to center stage. He adjusted his tuxedo, turned and stood with his back to a hushed crowd.
After well-timed seconds, Chango dramatically faced the crowd.
“Ladies and gentlemen. For my next daring, and may I humbly say, ‘Heroic’ exploit, do I have a completely unplanned volunteer from the audience to participate of their own free will in this bold and brave feat? It's one of which I alone have the audacity to perform. Anyone? Don’t be shy.” His eyes darted up and down rows. “Come on. Speak up.”
Dozens of hands shot up all over the arena.
“Really now, doesn’t anyone want to be the first to disappear from this very stage at the hands of the great Palmo Chango?”
Chango walked dramatically back and forth.
Again, dozens of hands went up, waving frantically about, each hoping to be the chosen one.
Little kids and teenagers hopped around in their seats to get the magician’s attention.
Chango paced the stage, abruptly stopping dead center. He raised his arms out from his side as if to take off in flight. Dropping one arm, he used the other to point out at the audience. Slowly moving, the arm went, left to right and back again as if searching for something or someone.
Dozens of hands continued to enthusiastically flap upwards and about, with some of the hands’ owners (mostly young children and teenagers, mind you) now standing and jumping to gain attention their way.
Chango focused his steely eyed gaze upon the center seats occupied by Gramma, Andy and Lola.
The crowd quieted down when they saw the objects of his attention.
All audience eyes turned to those occupying the second row seats.
“How about you, Madam,” Chango said dramatically. “Are you brave enough to participate?”
“Who, me?” Gramma said. She looked surprised. It was one of her better acting jobs.
“Yes, you,” Chango said in his deepest voice.
“He’s talking to you, Gramma,” Andy said. “He is. Say yes. Say you’ll do it.”
Lola screamed.
“Me? You think he’s talking to me? No. No way. He couldn’t be. Not with this huge crowd. He wouldn’t pick me,” Gramma said. She was already out of her seat, standing up.
“Yes,” Chango said loudly. “I mean you, young lady.”
Gramma beamed at the ‘young lady’ comment and hustled forward.
Beautiful Girl stepped off the stage to escort Gramma up the steps and into the waiting arms of the Great Magician Palmo Chango.
Chango took Gramma’s outstretched hand and led her to the table.
Over his shoulder, he yelled to the audience, “Clap if you want Chango to make this lovely grandmother disappear!” He cued Beautiful Girl to get the audience clapping loudly.
Beautiful Girl stood in front of the audience, throwing her arms up and down, encouraging them to cheer on the magical Chango and the brave grandmother to vanishing glory. She pointed first to Chango then back to Gramma.
The theater went into an uproar, the likes of which was never heard there before. Some of the more rowdy attendees (you know who you are) stomped their feet and thumped their hands on the backs of the seats in front of them.
Gramma feigned a look of surprise.
Her grandchildren had genuine looks of surprise.
Chango and beautiful girl helped Gramma up onto the table to a reclining position.
Gramma pushed back at them as if she had changed her mind.
Chango and beautiful girl persisted in holding her down.
Gramma calmed.
Beautiful girl draped a black tablecloth over Gramma, covering her whole body, the table and flowing down to the floor.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and the rest of you, too. Listen up. I will now make this lovely grandmother disappear.”
“How’d he know she was a grandmother?” Lola asked.
Andy jabbed her with his elbow to quiet down.
Chango pulled a genuine magic wand from his sleeve and skillfu
lly waved it up and down, around and over the tablecloth. For effect, he jabbed it into the tablecloth prompting Gramma to call out as if in pain.
“Whoops,” Chango said. He covered his mouth with his hand and gave the audience a sheepish look.
Lola frowned.
Getting serious again, Chango stood to the side, waved the wand above the tablecloth and said loudly, “Abracadabra. Hocus Pocus. Palmo Chango.”
Nothing looked any different on the table. The cloth was still draped over a Gramma form.
The audience squirmed a little as if to question if the trick worked.
Some in the crowd muttered their concerns.
Chango grabbed the end of the tablecloth and ripped it off, revealing an empty table.
“Gramma,” Andy yelled.
“What have you done with my Gramma?” Lola yelled.
Chango hammed it up, looking under the table, passing the wand through the vacant space to show the audience the area where Gramma used to be, was now empty. He walked around the table with beautiful girl to show there was nothing on either side. He looked up his sleeves and in his pockets as if she might be there. He even lifted up each shoe, one at a time, and looked on the bottoms.
No Gramma.
Chango shrugged.
“Should I bring her back?” he asked.
“Yes,” Lola and everyone else said.
Beautiful girl picked the black tablecloth from the floor and placed it over the table.
Chango waved his magic wand about in great flourishes, willing Gramma to reappear. He said a variety of Chango chants and pulled a black bottle of potion out of his jacket.
Chango looked at the audience and slowly took the cap off the jar. He titled his head back and slugged down a swig before putting the bottle back from where he’d taken it. The magician spit some of the potion onto the tablecloth. He held the wand at the bottom of the table and slowly moved it up the side. The black material began to puff up, fill out, and take the shape of the missing Gramma.
“Should I see if she’s under there?” Chango asked the audience.
“Yes,” they answered.
“I don’t know if I should or not. She wasn’t there a minute ago. I might be making a fool of myself.”
“Bring my gramma back,” Lola screamed.
In a flurry of magician hand and wand movements, the tablecloth was removed and a surprised-looking Gramma appeared on the table.
She sat up slowly, dangled her legs over the side and looked from the magician to Beautiful Girl as if to question what happened.
Chango waved his wand at Gramma, who became her usual animated self. She stepped down from the table with help from Chango and Beautiful Girl. She bowed to a wildly clapping audience. Spotting Chatty Mae in the back of the room, Gramma waved her way.
After enjoying the attention, Gramma rocked a little curtsy, then returned to her seat.
Andy and Lola touched their grandmother as if to see she was okay.
They had a big laugh.
The next actor on the stage to participate in the magician’s show was the Nubian yearling goat named Tipsy.
Chango continued with feats of magic and daring tricks, some involving Tipsy.
The audience was thrilled.
When the show was over, Gramma took Andy and Lola backstage to meet Palmo Chango and twin Beautiful Girls in person. Tipsy was there, too.
After introductions were made, Lola asked the magician, “How’d you make Gramma disappear? Huh? How’d you do that?”
“Magic, my dear girl. Magic,” Chango said. “It’s all Chango’s influence on the cosmic control of the universe. There are too many things to consider for me to tell you how it’s done. You know, the Polar Vortex, Quarks and Alternate Universes, etc., etc., etc.” He tilted his chin to the side and lifted his eyebrows mysteriously.
No one bought it.
When they were leaving the theater, Chango pulled Gramma aside and said, “Thank you again for bringing Tipsy back to me. Those thieves got what was coming to them, and I got my Tipsy back. And thanks for being part of the act. That was great fun.”
“You’re very welcome, Chango,” Gramma said. She got a goodbye hug from the magician and his sisters, the twin Beautiful Girls.
Back at the Cottage on Little Torch Key
“How’d Chango make you disappear, Gramma?” Andy asked.
“Snell’s law, smoke and mirrors, trap doors and projectors, dear boy. Smoke and mirrors.”
“No, we really want to know,” Lola asked. “How’d he do that? And how do you know him? And what’s Snell’s law?”
“Look it up. It’s a lovely, old-fashioned way to learn. I highly recommend it,” Gramma said. “And I did a little job for Chango awhile back. Let’s just say I thwarted some bad folks who thought they were going to barbecue Chango’s pet goat. The police got them, and Chango got Tipsy back.”
“Eeew,” Lola said. “They were going to eat Tipsy? That’s horrible. Wait’ll I tell Buddy.” She sent a text message.
“Yes. It’s a terrible thing, stealing someone’s pet. Some people’s kids don’t know how to behave. Speaking of sightseeing,” Gramma said. “Let’s do some more Key West sightseeing before we leave here. Tomorrow, we’ll see the Hemingway house, do some jet-skiing, and take the walking tour.”
“Allllriiight,” Andy said.
Chapter 19
Sculpting, The Civil War, Gangnam Moves and Other Stuff
“So, that’s who sent those folks to photograph me and my family when we were on Catalina Island,” Gramma said. “Shame on that gang of Cubans for bothering a gramma and her grandchildren when they’re on vacation. That Cuban gang was annoying when we were in Ecuador, too. Where will it all end? They give the nice Cubans a bad name. I’ve a mind to give them some of their own medicine. I think I will.” Gramma made some plans and sent a text.
“And imagine them complaining about the photos you put on their camera. Not one of them appreciated Ma and Pa Kettle,” Chatty Mae said. “What’s not to like about Ma and Pa Kettle? I love them.”
“Me, too,” Gramma said. “Wanna hear me yell, ‘Come and get it’ like Ma Kettle does in the movies?”
“Perhaps another time,” Chatty Mae said.
“I do a smashing Godzilla, too.”
“As I said, perhaps another time. As for them following you around, let me know if they do it again. I’ll put a permanent stop to it,” Chatty Mae said.
“Thanks, Chatty Mae. I’m so glad our boss put you on that, and I’m glad we have an investigation we’ll be doing together next month. Carl’s going to be joining us on our upcoming Washington D.C. trip. He’s good to work with.”
“I really enjoyed your part of the Palmo Chango show, Gramma,” Chatty Mae said. “How’d he do that?”
“Smoke and mirrors.”
“Stop already,” Chatty Mae said. “Any news about your adversary, Poppy Gold? Has she been spotted anywhere?”
“Carl saw her in Venice and he heard she was down in the Florida Keys. She seems to be wherever I am. And isn’t it cheeky of her to call herself Poppy Gold. It’s so pretentious for someone whose real name is Harold Jones.”
“No doubt. Just be careful, Gramma. You know what she’s capable of. She’s beginning to make Moriarity look like small potatoes.”
“I will. Hey, how’s Sneaky Rex doing these days? I mean Rex.” Gramma stammered in embarrassment.
“It’s okay if you call him Sneaky Rex behind his back. It sounds rather dashing and romantic. Just don't call him that to his face. It might hurt his feelings. And he’s doing just fine, thank you. Although that temptress Sweetums is still visiting him at the mailbox.”
“My Sweetums, a temptress? I don’t think so. She’s got animal magnetism maybe, but a temptress? No. I don’t think so. And Rex was spotted on our property, waiting outside our garage. So, who’s the guilty party now? Huh?”
Gramma continued sculpting the clay. “Anyway, it’s that Doo Doo you gotta wat
ch. He’s something else. Not Obie. He’s too stout to go too far. And he shows no interest in anything that’s not in his dish or handed out as a treat. Am I being too hard on Obie? After all, it’s not his fault. Uncle shouldn’t feed him so much. I’d never do that to a dog of mine, but you gotta admit, Obie’s well-nourished.”
Chatty Mae was astonished Gramma believes she doesn’t overfeed her own dog, but she kept it to herself.
“Hey, is that a bust of Bibi?” Chatty Mae asked. “If it isn’t, it should be ’cuz it really looks like him.” She leaned in to get a better look.
“Yep. That’s Bibi all right. Think he’ll like it?” Gramma asked. “I thought I’d take it with me next time I go to Tel Aviv.”
“Are you planning a visit there soon?”
“Not in the next few weeks. I gotta' go to Gettysburg before the month’s up. There’s some mischief going on there that needs to be looked into.”
Gramma’s phone announced a call coming in. She put her tools down and answered it.
“Hi Gramma. Got time for dinner soon?” Red was getting more daring.
“Get lost,” Gramma said. “What did you think of that, Red? It sounds so good when an uninterested party says it, doesn’t it? I just had to do it. What’d you think? Was it too forceful? Too unfeminine? Should I soften it a bit?”
“You don’t mean that. You haven’t even seen me. I’m a real hunk. Ask anyone, and I’ve got personality and lots of dough. What more could you want?”
“How about someone who’s on the right side of the law? That’d be nice.”
“But I’ve got so much to offer. Stick with me, Baby and you’ll wear the best,” Red countered.
“I already do,” Gramma replied. She hung up the phone. “Obviously he’s not looked closely at my outstanding wardrobe and these topnotch work boots I’m sporting. Believe me, I could be on any of those shows about models and runways, and clothing.”
Chatty Mae let that pass. “Is that Red still chasing you?”
“I’m not sure what you’d call it, other than futile.”
“Hey, don’t you usually go bungee jumping this time of year?” Chatty Mae asked.
The Amazing Adventures of Gramma Page 15